Heavenly Peace
by MeghanJinx
Summary: How do Draco, Ron and Hermione spend their sixth Christmases with their families? :) My first HP fic and IHMO, my best work.


Heavenly Peace

By: Meghan~Jinx

Authors note: First HP fic! Yay! I know it's dumb, but it was really boring in science class (we

were watching a very graphic video [lol] on worm dissection.) And this came to me. And I was

listening to BSB's 'Spanish Eyes' over and over… ^_^ Merry Christmas, happy holidays and a

joyous New Year!

*~¤…~*~…¤~*

Hermione Granger picked up the rolling pin again and began to roughly flatten the dough. Her

father stood over her, clutching her arms, helping her with the large rolling pin.

Her mother was mixing more batter, and flour was all over the kitchen.

"Mum?" asked Hermione, hopping off the stool and walking over to the overly organized kitchen

drawer and giving it a firm yank open. "Is the first batch ready to decorate yet?"

Mrs. Granger opened the oven door and squinted at the steam.

"I'd say so…" She stuck one oven-mitted hand into the heat and lifted out a pan of golden sugar

cookies in Christmas shapes.

Hermione fished around in the drawer and pulled out a handful of metal icing tube decorating tips.

"We'd better wait for them to cool, Princess," said her father, lifting her up back on the stool. "Let's

finish cutting out these and we'll put them in the oven."

Mr. Granger pushed one of the silver, metal cutters into the soft dough and wriggled it around

ever so slightly, as not to tear the dough.

Then with a spatula he lifted it into the greased pan.

Hermione selected the star cutter and pressed it into the cookie dough and with the help of her

father, she successfully made a shape, with the exception of one of the edges torn a bit.

"I know the icing's here… somewhere…" muttered Mrs. Granger, her head stuck in the

refrigerator, the sounds of rummaging coming from inside. "Honey, have you seen it?"

"Look on the third shelf, dear," replied her husband, now helping his daughter lift another raw

cookie onto the sheet.

"Ah… here!" cried Mrs. Granger, raising herself from her crouch and waving several tubes of

decorating icing in her hand.

Hermione grabbed the red tube and carefully began to paint on of the now-cooled cookies, as her

mother stuck the new batch in the oven to bake.

Mr. Granger, frosting a cookie next her began to hum softly, just a barely audible buzzing in his

throat.

"What're you singing, Daddy?" asked Hermione, eyeing her father.

The oven door shut and Mrs. Granger sauntered over. "I know."

She began to hum, and soon Hermione joined in. Mr. Granger draped his arm around his wife.

Hermione smiled, still making a masterpiece of her sweet. Their humming turned to light singing.

"Silent night, holy night…

"All is calm, all is bright…"

*~¤…~*~…¤~*

In what seemed like a world away, a wizard family, the Weasleys, had begun to decorate their

tree (a handsome fir) the 'Muggle' way—by hand, instead of magic. Which of course for the

Weasleys, would always be complete chaos and utter disorder and disaster.

"MUUUUUUMMMMM!" hollered Ginny, racing downstairs. "MUUUUUM!"

Percy gave a start and dropped a glass ornament, but Fred, who was on the floor (searching for a

glass ball he'd dropped), caught it.

Percy took it from Fred and quickly placed it on the tree. "What are you yelling about, Ginny?"

"Mum," Ginny said, looking exasperated. She rolled her eyes. "Where's she at?"

"Ginny, you know perfectly well you do not end sentences with prepositions," sniffed Percy in an

air of self-importance.

Ginny stared at Percy. "What's a perpostition?"

Percy began to correct her, but Mrs. Weasley walked into the room, carrying several cardboard

boxes. "Ginny? What was all the yelling about?"

Ginny, who had long forgotten, promptly asked, "What's a perpostition?"

Bill followed Mrs. Weasley carrying a box of shining tinsel. He laughed. "Perpostition?"

"Don't ask," said George, who was sitting on the floor, stringing popcorn on a thread.

"Where's dad at?" asked Fred, who was still searching, grinning smugly at Percy, who growled

and walked out of the room in a huff.

Mr. Weasley and Charlie entered the room, and Charlie deposited a box on the floor next to the

rest.

"I think that's all…" commented Mr. Weasley, ripping off the tape that held together the top of the

box.

"Here it is!" yelled Fred, jumping up on his knees.

"Here what is?" asked Percy, entering the room, in an annoyed voice.

"This!" yelled Fred, hurling the ball at Percy. Percy shrieked and instinctively ducked as the ball

knocked against the wall, shattering into a million, glittering ruby pieces.

"Fred!" said, Mrs. Weasley, her eyes narrowing. "Reparo!" she added, pointing her wand at the

ornament, which repaired itself instantly.

"Hmmph…" muttered Percy, as he began to help Ginny, Ball and Mrs. Weasley decorate the tree.

"Please don't throw anymore ornaments," said Mrs. Weasley in her most severe voice. "At Percy

or anyone."

Fred grinned maliciously. "Wouldn't dream of it Mum."

"Here. We finished a string," said George, tossing the finished garland of popcorn around Percy

neck. "Put it on Perce… no, on second thought, it looks good on you."

"Mum!" said Percy desperately, as his brothers (and Mr. Weasley snorted) and flinging the string

of popcorn aside.

"Please boys…" said Mr. Weasley noticing his wife getting very angry. "Let's all have some

eggnog… Charlie could you fetch us some…"

Charlie disappeared into the kitchen and came back out with several glasses and a carton.

"Here we are…." said Mr. Weasley.

Percy put down the lights he had been stringing on the tree and took a glass of eggnog. "Why

don't we sing a carol?"

"Sing a carol?" asked Bill suppressing a snigger.

"What?"

"You're talent for singing…is well…nothing so what do we sing?"

"Silent night?" piped up Ron, who'd been silent for the most part.

"I don't know all the words."

"Well, (Fred, don't you even think about it!) that's all right Ginny dear, you can just hum," Mrs.

Weasley stopped as they began singing.

"…Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child,

"Holy infant so tender and mild…"

*~¤…~*~…¤~*

And in a extravagant manor on the same night, a little fair haired boy stared out the large

window at the side of his bed sadly. The moon flooded in and cast a bluish glow on the dark

room, shining on his pale face and highlighting the lightness of his fine hair.

A small, glistening tear ran down his cheek and splashed on his pajama top.

He held his knee up to his chin and wrapped his arms around it, as he stopped singing the song

he had begun at last verse. It was his favorite Christmas carol. But all the cheer in the world

wouldn't help his spirits.

He waited for his parents. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy still hadn't returned from the party they

were attending.

It's eleven and they still aren't back, he thought to himself, as he swayed back and forth a little

He turned around in place and stepped off his bed.

Who was he kidding? He'd have another lonely Christmas. Christmas together wasn't high on his

parents' list of top priorities.

He walked down the hall, on the cold stone floor and to the landing that overlooked the main hall.

The tree stood in the middle of the hall, tall and great, shimmering with possibly a million lights, as

Draco thought. The glass ornaments glowed luminously off the surrounding them, pitching

forward more light than there really was.

Underneath the tree, which was the real marvel, was at least over a hundred presents and

parcels of all shapes and sizes, tucked underneath the sturdy branches, just waiting to be

opened.

He smiled, despite his sadness, as he thought of new toys and everything else that his parents

must have bought him.

But no of them mattered. All he wanted for Christmas was his parents.

Down-spirited once more, he turned and walked solemnly down the hall back to his bedroom.

I hate Christmas, he thought tearfully. I hate the whole melancholy, morose holiday.

He curled up into a ball, and lay his head gently on his pillow; unable to control the floor of tears

that poured down his face and the sobs that issued themselves from his mouth.

He closed his eyes and as sleep claimed him, he whispered to himself the last words of the song he had been previously singing.

"…Sleep in heavenly peace,

"Sleep in heavenly peace."


End file.
